


I don't get art

by DarkmoonSigel



Series: But Is It Art? [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Destiel - Freeform, First Kiss, M/M, Nudity, mention of Sabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:39:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation of the Artist Castiel x Mechanic Dean story line. A little silly, a little sad, a little something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I don't get art

**Author's Note:**

> You can thank Boofini for this. She wanted more. :)

If he was being perfectly honest with himself at the time, Dean had to admit he didn’t known what to expect when he pulled up to what passed for Castiel’s studio. The address and directions that the odd artist had given him took the pair far out of the city and into farming country, smooth asphalt turning to crunchy gravel and hard packed dirt. Dean grimaced for his paint job, tires, and suspension at the bumpy ride with inevitable dust kick up, cursing vividly at every pothole the Impala seemed fated to find.

The most unlikely of passengers to ever grace the interior of his car, world famous artist and soon to be employer, seemed quite content to stare out the window, like the swift blurred view of passing cornfields was going to tell him the divine meaning of life. For all Dean knew, maybe it would. He was really hoping it was telling Castiel where the hell they were cause Dean was pretty sure that they were completely lost and had been for the better part of an hour.

“We are not lost.”, Castiel broke the charged silence that had existed between them since the start of this little journey. For not making a sound most of the time, Castiel seemed to have a knack for filling up all the breathable space with his presence alone.

Holy hell, Dean thought while glancing over at Castiel with a suspicious look, he could apparently read minds now too. Hopefully Castiel would only use his powers for good otherwise Dean was really screwed and not in the fun way. He had been undressing Castiel in his mind for the last couple of miles and imagining what kind of sounds the artist would make with that whisky soaked, rough voice of his while being fucked into the Impala’s dash or over the car’s gleaming black hood. Dean snorted at himself for being such a pathetic horndog while he tried to adjust himself discretely. 

Feeling safe to do so, Dean turned his full attention back to the unwitting artist beside him. “Feels like we are.”, the mechanic grunted, gesturing to the sea of golden tipped greenery all around them. This was starting to feel less like a fun romantic comedy to him and more like a B-rated horror movie but without the gratuitous tit shots. If Dean had any say in the matter though, he would skip the monster of the week and the gratuitous violence, and make this flick X rated with his perky nipples and his renewed interest in car sex. “How much further?”.

“Distance is relative. It is the journey that matters.”, Castiel nodded sagely to no one. Dean stared at his passenger as long as he could without watching the road, unsure of what expression his own face was trying to resolve itself into at that unexpected insight.

“Cas….While deep, that’s not really answer.”, Dean settled for mildly displeased topped with a side of miffed. “Now can you quit being a bad fortune cookie for a minute and tell me where the fuck we are and how much longer we’re going to be? I really need to take a piss and I’d rather not do it on something I might be eating in the future.”.

“Urine is sterile. One can drink it if need be without ill effect.”, Castiel told Dean in that annoyingly calm manner of his, “But if you require enclosed facilities for comfortable urination, my home is right there.”. And just like something biblical, the corn parted like a sea to reveal an old farmhouse and an even older barn, leaving Dean speechless. He had to admit that both were a little hard to miss unless the onlooker was completely stone blind. Dean was pretty sure those day glo colors could be seen from orbit, the large, colonial style farmhouse’s exterior saturated in a rave’s wet dream of searing hot pink, screaming orgasm yellow, and a shade of blue that was making Dean’s eyes water from its intensity. Not to be outdone by its flamboyant neighbor, the barn was a shade of orange that looked dangerously radioactive and was accented with stark black markings that appeared to be tribal in nature and looked more than a little vicious.

“Holy hell….”, Dean breathed out as he pulled up to the house. It was enough for him to even forget the unnecessary fun fact about pee he could have lived the rest of his life without knowing. 

“I have been meaning to repaint. It is missing a green for balance.”, Castiel mused as he exited the vehicle, Dean following him with his eyes still glued to the house’s exterior even though it kinda hurt to look at it directly or at length. The design in partnership with the neon color palette made it seem to move and twist without the aid of recreational drugs. Dean wondered to himself what Castiel had been taking at the time cause there was no way in hell that paint job was done by anyone sober or in their right mind.

“So this is what happens when you take the brown acid.”, Dean mused, debating with himself if it were safe enough to touch. Dean really didn‘t want to catch crazy from a house. Shrugging in neutral response, Castiel started to walk up the front step, each on painted a different color, leaving Dean with only the options of calling it a day or following him in. The mechanic supposed it was alright seeing that the artist hadn’t bothered to close the front door behind him and in Dean’s opinion, that was as good an invitation as he was going to get from Castiel, though the mechanic did pause to study the wraparound porch in all its trippy florescent glory.

With a shake of his head, Dean entered, mindful to close the door behind him and lock it because seriously, even out in the middle of nowhere you couldn’t be too careful. Safety secured, he ended up stopping short in his tracks, staring around wide eyed and slack jawed at the house’s interior.

It was so…..so… damn normal.

Like normal that bordered on the boring kind of normal, normal. Dean didn’t know what to make of this total turnabout in reality as he rubbernecked his way through a rather comfortable looking living room painted and decorated in tasteful earthen tones, dark brown leather furniture, and warm honey wood flooring. It even had some tasteful accent pillows. Feeling like a victim of the Twilight Zone, Dean found Castiel easily enough in the kitchen, which was a monstrosity of modern technology done all in gleaming white tile, unblemished surfaces, and snowy ceramic with silver chrome, a cheerful sunflower theme as its colorful touch of whimsy. 

“What the hell happened here? You have an off day?”, Dean asked, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. He didn’t want to touch anything in here, it was all so damn white and clean looking. Dean’s own kitchen in his apartment was sad little affair, marked with neglect and disuse, not that Dean couldn’t cook. He just rarely had the time or the desire to do so. Cooking for one was depressing enough chore anyway. 

“No. This is Gabriel’s doing. He lives with me and has done so for a while now. He claims it is ‘for reasons’ and is for my ‘benefit‘.”, and there were those darling little air quotes again, Castiel committing himself to the finger gestures. On some level, Dean wanted to stop him but it was adorable in its over exaggerated application. “I was opposed to the decor but Gabriel insisted so we played a strange game called beer pong to decide the outcome. I lost so Gabriel got to chose the interior design of the house…..”

Dean completely missed the rest of Castiel’s story, his mind too boggled by the very idea and image of Castiel playing something mundane as beer pong. As much as he liked it( and it did look comfortable and more his style), Dean wasn’t about to compliment anything that little brother molesting weasel of a midget did. Dean most recent memory of Gabriel was of Castiel’s brother shoving his tongue into Sam’s mouth and even worse, Sam appearing to encourage it by picking the little fucker up and carrying him out of the museum to probably do things. Terrible inappropriate things that made Dean want to scrub his brain with bleach rather than think about at length. He just hoped that Sam topped and made that little groping troll walk with a limp for a week.

“Humph, I like the outside better.”, Dean grumbled, scowling at the cheerful kitchen of clean cheerfulness with all its stupid happy sunflowers. It had lost its luster now that he knew that it was Gabriel’s doing as Dean started to wander around, marking pristine counters with fingerprints and scuffing his heavy steel toed boots across clean white tile. He was a mechanic and thus was perpetually covered in oil or some sort of car grime despite all his best efforts toward cleanliness. Dean was on a personal mission now to avenge Sam’s virtue. If anyone was going to dirty up this damn kitchen, it was going to be him. 

So preoccupied with his new goal in life, Dean would have missed the glass of water offered to him if it wasn’t shoved directly into his face, almost smacking him in the nose. “Um, thank you?”, Dean gingerly accepted the almost too full glass that threatened to spill over. He wondered why Castiel looked so damn pleased with himself, the artist smiling wide enough to show teeth. Like everything else about him, it was an clumsy thing, like Castiel didn’t get a chance to use the expression often, but just like everything else he did, it was honestly done. It faltered it a bit under Dean’s questioning arched brow at the procured water.

“Is it not customary to offer one’s guest refreshment?”, Castiel asked, nodded his head toward the beverage, beginning to look a little nervous about it.

“Um yeah. Usually you ask first but this it good too. Thanks Cas.”, Dean said quickly as he made a show of sipping his water to put the artist at ease. He knew that he wasn’t the best person to being giving out etiquette advice. The only person who came over to his place was Sam and he hardly counted being family and all, and as it turned out, one hell of a mooch. When the college student came over, Sam tended to drink all Dean’s beer, eat all his food, use up all his hot water, and lounge around on his couch butt ass naked while his multiple loads of dirty laundry were in the wash. In Dean’s opinion, another man’s taint sweat should never touch his couch, even if that man was his brother. It just wasn’t right. 

Though many would assume otherwise from his friendly open demeanor, Dean didn’t bring people, as in the bar’s flavor of the night, home. Mostly because his living quarters were right over his garage and he didn’t like strangers in his personal space or his work area. The small stand alone building that encompassed his business and home was both and thus off limits, even to the prettiest of faces. The more time he spent with Castiel though, Dean was beginning to get a sinking feeling that hinted he might be willing to make an exception for the pair of soulful blue eyes that were trying to stare straight through him to the very depths of his soul. 

“My apologies.”, Castiel muttered, looking a bit amiss as his fingers played with the worn cuffs of his trench coat. Without another word, the artist started to wander off out of the kitchen and back into the living room, looking lost in his own head. Dean put his glass down quickly on the counter out of the way to follow him, wondering if it was some sort of defense mechanism on the artist’s part. He remembered Castiel trying to escape his company before at the museum when he got uncomfortable or embarrassed. Unfortunately for the artist, Dean was stubborn ass and a Winchester to boot, which meant he was an unique class of stubborn. The kind of which that had the tenacity to crack diamonds.

Dean snagged Castiel easily enough by the back of his trench coat before the artist got too far. “I’m going to put a leash on you if you keep wandering off on me like that.”, Dean chuckled, dragging the man back to his side who head titled inquisitively in response.

“I do not think we have progressed far enough along in our relationship, professional or otherwise, to establish dominance in BDSM foreplay.”, Castiel furrowed his brow in thought. In witty reply, Dean made a real go at choking himself out on air.

“I believe I would have a preference for being the dominant though, if that is alright with you should the situation ever arise.”, Castiel stated solemnly with a definite nod as Dean fought to remind his lungs how to funtion correctly.

“T-that’s….That’s great, Cas. Flipping fantastic.”, Dean managed out weakly. He tried to shift himself as discreetly as possible in what felt like a gesture he had been repeating all damn day in Castiel‘s presence, his penis definitely liking where this conversation was going, the fucking traitor. Dean told his mini me to shut the hell up and that he didn’t get a vote on shit. “Did you want to paint me or proposition me?”. He asked, really hoping for the latter.

Castiel gave Dean a strange look in return. “I can hardly paint you in the living room.”, Castiel told him patiently like Dean was the crazy one here, saying highly inappropriate things. “We will need to go to my studio.”.

“Ok, let’s do that then.”, Dean said carefully. Not receiving any indication of where he should be going, Dean ended up staring at Castiel who stared right back at him. It went on for long enough that Dean broke out into a cold sweat, wondering what the hell was going on. Did eye fucking count as a come hither look or actual foreplay? “Um….Cas?”, Dean prompted, wetting his too dry lips nervously with a quick tongue. Castiel’s eyes disconcertingly tracked every movement with an intensity that was usually only equated to lasers.

“Yes, Dean?” was said, accompanied by even more intense staring.

“I don’t live here. You’re going to have to lead the way.”, Dean said, feeling kinda desperate now. Damn, Castiel’s eyes were pretty though, like his very own personal view of the Caribbean, all clear and sparkly. The suggestion in common sense was enough to nudge the artist in the right direction though, Castiel breaking off the look to start meandering again without any word of warning or direction. This time, Dean was in tow, the mechanic latching a light hand onto the back of the artist‘s trench coat. The pair left the farmhouse via the back door, which Dean insisted Castiel lock and earned a blank look from the artist for suggesting the seemingly foreign concept of home security, the men walking toward the florescent orange barn, the color of which that had managed to burn itself into the back of Dean’s eyelids by the time they got to the entrance.

Dean hadn’t know what he been expecting but he found that he wasn’t disappointed in the least bit. The barn was one huge space filled from top to bottom and corner to corner with canvases of all different shapes and sizes from handheld tiny to ‘holy fuck, I didn’t know they made them big enough to hide elephants’. There were dividers and walkways of sorts, made up entirely from containers and tubes of paint in every color Dean knew and even some he didn’t. Paint brushes were everywhere, soaking in jars of cleaning solution, drying out set off to the side in the only sink of the place, or solidified in dried paint and cemented to whatever surface they had been abandoned upon. The wood planked floor of the barn looked like a couple of rainbows had had a messy orgy on it, feeling tacky underfoot from the sheer amount of mixed mediums that had been dripping upon it.

Like an island in a sea of congealing pigment set off to the side in a far corner, an entire block of white marble was surrounded in the chiseled off refuse of its own stony flesh. From what Dean could tell, the piece was still a work in progress, a highly detailed yet faceless figure beginning to emerge from the tortured embrace of stone. It gave Dean the creeps, the mechanic making a mental note to avoid looking at it again. 

In another corner of the barn stood an unlit kiln with a muddy looking pottery wheel and an array of narrow metal tubing in various lengths set up close to the industrial oven. The shelving that lined the walls in this area where filled with delicate looking blown glass decorations that sparkled like rare gems and robust pots, the intricate glaze in assorted shades of metallic upon them glistening brightly in the overhead lighting. 

“I thought you just painted.”, Dean said, feeling like he had to say something but not knowing quite what. Nailed it, he groaned inwardly at his lack of intelligent commentary. Art so wasn’t his thing.

Thankfully, the artist didn‘t seem to mind. “I get bored.”, Castiel shrugged going to a locker that had seen better days, part of Dean somewhat impressed that the metal structure was still standing. To Dean’s amusement, Castiel took off his trench coat to replace it with another trench coat, though this one was incredible stained with a impressive range of colors from various paints, bits of clay, and what looked like burn marks. 

“Um, don’t you want to change out of your suit if you’re going to be messy?”, Dean asked as he watched Castiel collect some of the clean brushes from the sink to shove them into his coat pocket.

“I already did.”, Castiel pointed out, looking down at himself. “I always wear a suit and tie. Gabriel insisted that I do so after a few unfortunate incidents of people coming over to see my work.”.

“How is that unfortunate?”, Dean asked, feeling a bit more confident to look around as he picked his way through Castiel’s wasteland of a studio. It wasn’t like he could mess the place up any more than it actually was, even if he decided to throw a couple gallons of paint around willy nilly. 

“I was regrettably naked or in a state of offensive undress at the time. It was not well received.”, Castiel said in offhand manner as he moved some pieces of canvas around, shoving the ones that offended him for whatever reason aside with a slightly puzzled frown. “Clothing can be a hindrance and starts to smell if left in contact with one’s skin for too long, but it can be useful for cleaning up spills or as padding for taking hot pots out of the kiln.”.

“You paint in the nude?”, was all that Dean got out of that, liking how this modeling job was beginning to sound better and better.

“Not often, at least not anymore. Gabriel takes measures toward my attire and insists that I wear suits.”, Castiel grumbled, displeased with his assortment of canvases though Dean didn’t know why. They all looked the same to him. “The layers are taxing to take off so I usually do not make the effort to do so unless they are definitively needed.”

“Well if you feel the burning urge to strip, just let me know. I’ll be happy to help you out of a few pesky layers.”, Dean grinned cheekily. “Promise I won’t get offended.”

“That is very kind of you, Dean. I will keep that in mind.”, Castiel murmured, obviously distracted by his own inner judgments about the properties of the canvas. Dean watched his blatant come on clear the artist’s head, flying high over it like a comet made of fail. “Oh but that does remind me. You will need to disrobe please.”.

“D-disrobe?”, Dean stammered, his boots catching on some of the floor’s debris. The mechanic barely managed to catch his balance in time to avoid face planting. Castiel took his surprise for misunderstanding much to Dean’s chagrin.

“I would like you to take off all of your clothing, Dean.”, Castiel unnecessarily clarified to the wide eyed, cherry red mechanic. 

“I know what it means!”, Dean snapped, rubbing the back of his neck with a jumpy hand. “Can I know why I’m showing you all my goods and services without even so much as a free drink?”. It wasn’t like he was ashamed of his body. His job beat him into shape and habitual visits to the gym kept the rest of him well toned. This was the first time he was ever seriously considered doing a dude though, and for a confused plethora of insecure sex related reasons, Dean didn’t want to be the one getting down and dirty before Castiel. He wasn’t even sure if he was going to top or not, and in his opinion, getting buck naked first did nothing to secure that position for him. 

True to form, Castiel remained oblivious to what was happening between them or that he was even the source of Dean’s distress, the artist making a gruff noise of triumph as he unearthed a canvas that he could work with finally, freeing from the stack. “How else am I supposed to make a study of your body if you are not naked?”, Castiel head titled when he finally registered Dean’s question. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Here’s wild idea though. Maybe paint me with my clothing on?”, Dean suggested with more than just a hint of sarcasm, running his hands over his shirt and jeans as if to reaffirm that they were still on him. Much to Dean’s surprise, Castiel seemed to be taking his retort under deep consideration, the overly thoughtful expression of furrowed brow making the artist look constipated in Dean’s opinion. 

“No.”, Castiel concluded, taking his selected canvas to a somewhat cleared out space in the center of the barn where a sturdy looking easel stood. “You can put your clothing in the locker with my coat if you like.”. 

“Well, I’m so glad we cleared that up.”, Dean grumbled, rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh, the mechanic toeing his boots off as he started the process of relieving himself of all his comfortable layers. Piling everything up together, Dean shoved all his effects into the offered locker, trying not to feel too self conscious as air nipped at his bare skin in annoying little prickly reminders. He always had the option to leave but Dean couldn’t bring himself to just yet. Castiel wasn’t coming off as a pervert despite his odd love for trench coats or was making any effort to ogle his junk. If anything, Castiel seemed to be contemplating the colony of dusty spider webs that had taken over the barn’s rafters, basically ignoring Dean who felt vaguely disappointed by the lack of attention, perverted or otherwise. The mechanic looked down at himself to reaffirm that, yes, he was a stunning example of the male specimen with a well toned physique, tanned skin, a dimpled smile, and in the general opinion of his bedmates, very well endowed from the waist below.

Eventually, Castiel’s wayward focus returned from wherever it had floated off to, to stare at Dean with an almost puzzled expression on his face. It threw Dean off a little, hoping for a little appreciation for his sacrifice in dignity. He lost his patience though when Castiel frowned thoughtfully at him.

“What?”, Dean snapped, crossing his arms over his chest to resist the impulse to hide his junk from view.

“It is not of import but you are bow legged.”, Castiel stated blandly, breaking off his study of Dean to collect his paints from various piles of discard. 

Dean’s shoulders slumped in disbelief at the blunt commentary. “What? Shut up.”, Dean growled, the mechanic a bit touchy about his wayward knees thanks to his younger sibling. 

“Do not worry yourself about it. It is mild enough I can work around it.”, Castiel offered in way of comfort.

“I’m so relieved.”, Dean huffed, letting it go. There was no point making a fuss about something when the other person wasn’t even mentally in the same state of mind much less in the same room, or even on the same planet for that matter. 

“Just so you know, you don’t have my permission to show or sell this, whatever this is, to anyone. Gotta pay if you wanna play for this fine ass and perky nipples.”, Dean grumped, wondering what the hell he was supposed to be doing as an artist’s model. Should he just stand there and look pretty or look for something to sit down on and lounge? Dean considered striking a pose of some sort but nixed the idea when he realized he had no idea how long he would have to hold it or even how long this was going to take. “Hey Cas, are we going to wrap this up anytime soon? Like before dinner?”.

“I do not expect this project to be complete anytime soon. Weeks perhaps. Possibly months. Who knows really?”, Castiel shrugged, ducking his head as he uncovered a table from its hiding place. Dean noticed that the artist was carefully hiding his expression from him as Castiel dragged the small table over to the easel so that he could busy himself setting up his chosen tubes of oil upon it. He reacted to the sounds of Dean sputtering in surprise.

“Months?! What the hell? I thought this was a ‘one night only’ deal?”, Dean said, “You do realize that I have a garage to run and jobs lined up, right?”.

“My schedule is versatile. Come here when you can and whenever you are able to.”, Castiel offered, loading a worn palette full of moist color. He pulled a paintbrush out of his pocket, taking a moment to consider it. Dean rolled his eyes at the artist, not getting the methods to his madness as the implement passed whatever inspection it was under.

“Oh, I guess that’s fine.”, Dean grunted, secretly giddy and liking that he had an open invitation to show up whenever he wanted to now. “Did you want me doing anything? Like model stuff?”.

“If you want, you can stand there or take a seat. It does not matter to me.”, Castiel said dismissively as he started to apply color to canvas, his complete focus dedicated to his craft.

“Um, don’t you need me to pose or something?”, Dean asked confused. Castiel mumbled an unintelligible response, sounding quite disinterested with the whole proceeding that was making Dean in his nudity feel all sorts of apprehensive.

“No. I have perfect recall in memory so it is completely unnecessary now that I have seen all of you.”, Castiel told him. The artist stared wide eyed in confusion as he suddenly found himself bodily turned away by firm hands from the view of his canvas to have it filled with a whole lot of irritated mechanic, who made the artist drop his palette in a wet splat of color. 

“Then why the hell am I still naked if you don’t need me to pose for you?! You could have told me to get dressed at least.”, Dean yelled, gestured down to his dangling bits. They were not enjoying the coolness of the room and to be fair, the chill was not doing Dean any personal favors in the size department either.

“I prefer you without clothing.”, Castiel answered, sounding mildly puzzled by Dean‘s irritated question, like the answer to it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“And why would it take months if you don’t need me around?”, Dean worked out through clenched teeth in an effort to at least maintain an appearance of calm.

“I like your company. I can pay you well for it. All I ask is that you remember to strip when you choose to join me here.”, Castiel requested calmly enough to make Dean’s brain hurt a little bit. 

“You don’t have to pay me to hang out with you.”, Dean sighed, tiredly running a hand down his face. Why was his life so weird? “And just so you know, that’s an incredibly odd thing to say to someone you‘ve basically just met.”. Dean ignored the fact that he stated all this while in the nude. He was keeping the moral higher ground here, damn it.

“I find that it makes things easier if I offer compensation to a person I wish to spend any extended duration of time with. I am not what one would call a ‘people person’. Money makes the process go more smoothly.”, Castiel air quoted much to Dean’s amusement, though the mechanic lost all sense of humor as the artist continued with his self evaluation. “I have been told frequently by my family and acquaintances that my personality is awkward and barely tolerable at best. My brothers Gabriel and Balthazar are the only two person I know of who make any effort to do so out of their own volition.”. 

Castiel would have continued if not for Dean and his waning patience with this conversation’s subject matter. “You know what, Cas? Screw those ass hats. Anyone who says that to you isn’t worth your damn time.”, Dean snapped, wincing when he saw Castiel jump a little from his abrupt tone, the artist watching him with almost scared looking wide eyes. “I like you just fine and you don‘t need to pay me. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a little rough around the edges, but hell, who isn’t? So don’t take that kind of shit from anyone. I don’t get art and wouldn’t know a Picasso from a hole in the ground, but I can tell you’re awesome even without it and that’s saying something coming from me. Most people suck but you don‘t.”

“You think I’m awesome?”, Castiel asked in a low voice, looking timid about it as if he was unsure if he should accept the compliment or not. “No one has ever referred to me personally as ‘awesome‘.”. Dean laughed as he caught Castiel’s hands in his own to keep the artist from making his beloved air quotes, the mechanic studying the tips of paint stained fingers within the hold of his calloused own. 

As he looked at Castiel, the artist frozen in his surprise at being complimented and sincerity of the mechanic‘s defense for him, Dean remembered the painting at the museum that had started this whole day for them. He had an epiphany of sorts while staring into those multi faceted azure blue eyes, the mechanic realizing in his bounty of insight that the depiction of the black winged angel was actually a self portrait but even more so, figured out what had been bothering him about it back at the museum. The crying angel’s tears were not made from sorrow but from loneliness and the silent suffering that came from it. The angel wings weren’t wrapped around him to ward off an attack or for others to keep their distance. They were there so that he could hide, not from fear but shame. A shame of being different, of being seen as broken or wrong and judged for it.

That was why it resonated with Dean, the mechanic having his own issues with his own self worth as well. His brother was a freaking genius who was going to graduate from a well renowned college valedictorian to go on to becoming some rich, hot shot lawyer. In comparison, Dean had barely made it through high school, graduating with only a GED to show for all his time spent there. He owned his own shop and did well enough but when compared to his younger brother, it was plain enough to see who was the more worthwhile person between them, the one worthy of respect. Dean couldn’t do anything for his own lot of life, but he was going to be damned if he let ignorant sons of bitches treat Castiel like that just because the guy couldn’t make small talk. 

Which was why Dean leaning in, catching the sides of Castiel’s face with gentle hands to keep the artist in place as he pressed a firm kiss to Castiel’s plush lips. He was going to make the artist lose that stunned expression over such a small compliment and replace it with something better. Dean fought his way into Castiel’s mouth, taunting and teasing with his tongue and teeth, playing with soft, chapped flesh when he could between all his efforts to map out Castiel’s teeth with the tip of his tongue, learning the flavor of the artist’s hesitant tongue as he made his study. His efforts left them both panting once it was established by their aching lungs that they both needed to breathe at some point. 

“Why did you do that?”, Castiel asked breathlessly, his voice a hoarse whisper as he touched his kiss swollen lips with trembling fingers and a look of complete wonder.

“Why do you think? I like you, you dippy angel.”, Dean rolled his eyes, touching their foreheads together, “I figured it would be alright since you already told me that you liked me.”. 

“Is it fine?”, Dean pressed, disquieted enough by the artist’s responding silence to seek belated yet hopeful permission before he made an even bigger fool of himself and start backpedaling to save what was left of his pride. It didn’t help anything when he remembered that he was still very naked and currently pressing all the nudity up against Castiel. 

Dean found that he didn’t get the chance to make excuses or retreat, his arms suddenly quite full of excited artist, Castiel jumping him to wrap his arms around Dean’s shoulders and his legs tightly around Dean’s waist. Dean got even less of a chance to comment or complain about his unexpected burden, his mouth very full of enthusiastic tongue. His brain catching up with current events helpfully informed Dean that Castiel had as much skill and finesse with kissing as he did with people skills, the kiss very wet and uncoordinated. It was very wholehearted and passionate though, Castiel not holding back anything as he basically attacked Dean‘s mouth with his full lips and tongue. Focusing on not falling over and killing the mood, the mechanic let him go to town until Castiel wore himself out, the artist humming in pleasure from it. 

For being possibly the worst kiss of his love life, Dean noted that he was hard enough from its moist effects to drill steel. He decided that he could deal and hell, it was just all about practice. Castiel seemed committed enough to learning and if his enthusiasm was any good indication, Castiel was a more than happy to give it his best efforts. All the gooey sweet feelings of smexiness aside, it gave Dean one hell of a good idea, killing two birds with one stone really.

“Hey Cas, have you ever done it on a kitchen counter before?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


End file.
